WnW 3.a – Memory 4

“Find her!”

I pressed against the stable door, trying hard not to breathe too loudly. The mob’s trampling footsteps grew louder, rushing past my hiding spot, then became softer. With my sharpened senses I could still hear them a ways off. They would be back. I’d lost them half a dozen times throughout the night, but only temporarily. The people of Cowlfen didn’t take kindly to their bishop being killed and were tireless in their pursuit of vengeance. Perhaps they believed that killing a demon with their own hands would grant them great favour in the eyes of God. 

Warmth flowed past my hand, which I clutched to my upper arm in an attempt to staunch the blood. I wouldn’t last the night. I needed to leave town. The Marquess said he would arrive soon, but could I really hold out?

I shook my head. The thought of relying on the Marquess made me sick to my stomach. I surveyed the darkened stable, my eyes piercing the dark better than any human’s. Where were the horses? I stepped further into the stable, checking each stall. 

A rustling sound came from one of the stalls in the back. I crouched and moved silently towards the source. My fingers grew weighty with the claws that adorned them. I pushed open the stall door.

A young boy sat quivering in the dark. He was unarmed, wrapped in a blanket. I relaxed and returned my hands to human form. The boy flinched as he saw me in the darkness, his eyes going wide with fear.

“Are you the Werwulf?”

I regarded him. He wore tattered clothing made of undyed wool. With a little thread and some dye he would look like a proper person instead of a cringing rodent. I hid my wounded arm and stepped a little closer. “Where are the horses, boy?”

He bowed his head, bottom lip shaking. “Dead. The vermin brought the Black Death upon ‘em.”

“All of them?” I asked incredulously. The Marquess’ reach went far beyond where he walked.

The boy didn’t meet my eyes. “A-all of them. Even…” The boy was trying desperately to hold back tears. “I couldn’t save ‘em,” he whispered.

My heart wrenched and I wrapped my arms around him as he started to bawl. “Shh…Shh. It’s okay.”

The only thought circling in my head was, The Marquess will pay, the Marquess will pay. Pay with suffering equal to his sin. Out loud I comforted the boy, “Hush. You’ll get new horses. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

The chaotic noises of the mob were getting louder. I could hear them shouting for blood and stomping their feet. Standing up, I left the boy crouching in the straw and went to the door. The riotous crowd grew loud as they reached the stable and this time they halted in front of it. I held the door shut as they hammered on the door, trying to gain entry.

“It’s locked.”

“She must’ve barricaded herself in there. Let’s burn it down!”

The door shook again and I made myself grow slightly to make it easier to hold shut.

“Oi! You in there, demon? We’re gonna give you a taste of hell early!”

The sound of crackling flame grew closer. Why did they think I was so afraid of fire? Beyond a healthy aversion to getting burnt, I wasn’t particularly scared. But the boy. I’d promised him he would be okay.

“I’m here!” I shouted out. Those words brought on a roar of cheers and shouts so loud I had to diminish my enhanced hearing so it wouldn’t hurt. “Don’t burn it down! There’s a stable hand still in here.”

Quieter muttering broke out.

“You’re lyin’!”

“I know this stable! It’s Frederick’s. He tol’ me he lost his horses. Why would the stable hand be in ‘ere with no horses to tend to?”

“She must be tryin’ to deceive us!”

“Burn the devil spawn!”

I felt heat spread towards me. I cursed and jumped back as the first few licks of flame made their way to my side of the door. Anger spread through my body at the townsfolk’s idiocy. They were going to burn their whole damn village down. I transformed as I moved back towards the boy. My straw-coloured hair grew and wrapped around my growing body as my posture shifted to accommodate joints more suited for sprinting on all fours. My vision grew sharper and more narrow.

The boy screamed as he saw me. I ignored his panic and scooped him up with one hand. Holding him close and lowering a hulking shoulder, I rammed into the wooden wall of the stable. It cracked and splintered. 

I could feel the heat of the spreading fire on my back.  I growled in an inhuman pitch and threw myself against the wall again. The wall gave and I tumbled through. Immediately pricks of pain sank into me from all sides. The villagers had laid a trap, attacking with pitchforks, hammers, and makeshift weapons. My hide protected me from the worst of it, yet I couldn’t retaliate. These people hadn’t done anything wrong. They were scared, just like the boy I cradled and shielded from the blows. 

A more intense pain stuck into my side. I howled and spun, knocking everyone away. The offending branding iron clattered to the ground. More villagers with torches closed in, their faces gleeful in their sadism. And in the distance, between two houses, I saw the Marquess watching me.

I tried to call out to him but my body didn’t allow for human speech, my mouth and throat had changed too much. All that came out was an alien noise that would have sent chills down my spine if I hadn’t been the one to make it.

More fiery blows landed and I had to shift my grip on the boy to protect him. Between blows I saw the Marquess smiling and drinking it all in. His expression said as much as his voice in my head, Ask for my help.

“Never!” I snarled. I brushed aside a group of people, knocking them into the ones behind them. The Marquess radiated his disappointment. Why not kill them?

“They haven’t done anything wrong.”

We are all born into sin. More importantly, they do not recognize the work of God.

I screamed as a torch found tender flesh where my hide had been burnt away.

You are so stubborn. Oh well, I will show them what you refuse to.

A scream erupted from the mob. Others turned to look at what was happening, giving me respite. It was a man thrashing on the ground, tearing at his own skin. He was covered in little black marks. Slowly his struggles grew weaker and the blackness on his skin spread like pitch was being smeared across his body. Others began to react as the affliction appeared on their own flesh. 

I realized in horror that there were rats swarming about the people’s legs. Those that were touched by rats began to show symptoms. Soon the whole mob was on their knees, crying out in agony, clawing at their own skin.

A rat brushed past my leg. “No!” I cried out in my garbled voice, holding the boy to my chest. “No!” I shouted again, intelligibly this time as I shifted back. The Marquess approached through the sea of rats, not even sparing a glance at the people suffering around him.

“Not the boy,” I pleaded.

The Marquess looked at the boy, seeming surprised. I knew it was feigned. “Why shouldn’t I? No one is exempt  from being judged.”

I shuddered as another rat brushed by my leg. I was spared from the disease. “You’re a monster,” I spat.

“Me? Better to be called a monster than to be blind to the divine work.”

“You don’t believe that! Your faith is nothing but a tool, a weapon to cut with.”

Something dangerous flashed in the Marquess’ eyes. His lips trembled and his fingers twitched. The boy erupted in black marks.

“No!” I screamed. The boy writhed as his flesh grew black and rotten. His eyes turned to me but they were already cloudy. Tears broke from my face and dropped onto the plague-ridden child.

The Marquess smiled. “Dear, dear Cecily. You misunderstand me entirely. To me,” he swept his hands out to his sides, as if proudly presenting his hellish handiwork, “all this is for faith. God is everything to me. You do not recognize it yet, but all this will be worth it if I can just reach a little higher to the heavens.” 

The Marquess grabbed his shoulders and squeezed himself. Hatred drowned out the screams of the men around me, until I heard only the boy’s laboured breathing and the Marquess saying, “I wish to touch God. My faith knows no boundaries and if God wishes it, he may smote me for it.”

I gently placed the boy down amongst the rats. I couldn’t save him. I hadn’t been able to save anyone. Not my father, not these villagers. The Marquess will pay.

He watched me lay the living corpse down and stand back up to face him defiantly. His smile widened. 

“Do you know why that bishop had to die? Because the Church is corrupt, just like this whole land. Sin will destroy us if we do nothing. So I am doing what I can to remake us. It is God’s will. See how he has marked us to do the task, giving us these gifts. I am willing, Cecily. And I believe in time, you will be too.”

The Marquess will pay, the Marquess will pay. Eye for an eye. And you, Marquess, have taken many eyes.

“What do you think that is, Cecily?” 

The Marquess was pointing into the sky. I looked up. In the distant heavens was a glowing thing. It was the same celestial body that we had seen in the scholar’s books. It shone black, like an eclipse. I could almost feel it getting closer.

“The first Flood.” The Marquess whispered reverently. “A cleansing the likes of which the world has never known after. But it will. And I will be elevated to meet with God.”